Dirty Past Read Online Free Page A

cock.
    “Dangerous question,” I remark, ignoring her subsequent eye roll. “You said you need a new phone and credit card.”
    “Correct.” She tucks some of that dark hair behind her ear.
    “Sofie should have told you that we’ll arrange that. For as long as you work for us.”
    “That isn’t necessary, Mr. Burke. I’m perfectly fine doing it myself.”
    “Sure you are, Ella, but you’re not going to. You’re our employee and we’ll take care of you.” And boy oh fucking boy, would I love to take care of this chick.
    “Well, thank you, but like I said, it isn’t necessary.” She smiles shyly and steps out of the elevator ahead of me.
    My jaw clenches. I don’t give a fuck if it’s necessary or if she wants it or not. “They’ll be in your name. We’ll take care of the phone bill, but the credit card is on you.”
    Her shoulders heave and she turns her head halfway over her shoulder, her eyes on my feet. “Thank you, but no thank you.”
    She slides her key card into the slot, but before she can open the door, I snatch her hand away. She flinches in shock, and I spin her so she’s facing me. Still, though, her eyes are on my shoulder.
    “When you wake up tomorrow there’ll be a phone and credit card in reception waitin’ for you, and you will take it. And, Ella?” I cup her jaw and force her eyes upward. They crash into mine, blazing with annoyance, and I tilt my face toward hers, enjoying the hitch in her breath. “For someone concerned about my manners, you have a serious lack of them. When I talk to you, you fuckin’ look at me. Understand?”
    Wordlessly, she steps back, and I let my hand fall. She nods once, quickly, and yanks on the door handle. She disappears inside the room in a split second, leaving me standing in the middle of the hall, staring at the closed white door.
    Wondering why the fuck her annoyed gaze was riddled with fear.
    T he Charleston Stadium is in darkness except for the stage. Silence fills the stands, but the first few rows and stage are, again, a different story. Final practices are always fucking crazy, because there’s always something that needs changing before tomorrow’s sound check.
    Like can I not eye up the tall girl with bottle-blond hair with the clipboard?
    The girl has tits that defy gravity and a top that doesn’t. No, I can’t stop looking at her.
    “Tate. Seriously,” Carla, our manager Marc’s assistant, snaps. “Can you focus?”
    “Can you get this chick out of here?” I nod toward Tits. “Until then, no, I fuckin’ can’t.”
    Carla presses her fingertips to her forehead and turns toward Tits. “Jodie, go backstage to wardrobe and ask them for a damn turtleneck.”
    Jodie. Huh. She doesn’t look like a Jodie. Maybe an On My Knees Waiting for Tate, but not a Jodie.
    And if that shit isn’t a real name, it should be. For a lot of girls.
    Carla looks at me once Jodie’s left and narrows her eyes. “Now can you concentrate?”
    I stare at her, not saying a word. Seriously, she should know better by now. It doesn’t take much to distract me—and if a girl has a rack like that, she’s gonna distract the hell out of me.
    “Can you think with your fingers and not your penis?”
    I smirk. “I can think with them and I can act with them, Carla.”
    “Get your head in the game, dickhead, and maybe she’ll let you get your head somewhere else after practice,” Aidan calls to me.
    “No one will be getting heads anywhere after this!” Carla shrieks.
    “Can we be professional? For five minutes?” Conner groans.
    “Sure we can, baby bro. On Saturday, where there are a fuck ton of girls out there begging for my head.” I half-grin.
    “Enough!” Carla’s voice rings out through the stadium. She looks at all of us, but her eyes linger on me for a second longer. “Y’all have to perform in twenty-four hours. Tate, if you need a break, I’ll send someone for a Playboy , all right? And you,” she turns on Aidan, “stop encouraging